


You've Got to be Kidding!

by FrozenWings



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: (hopefully), Age Regression/De-Aging, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Prompt Fic, S2e20, Then the fun starts!, You're Kidding Me!, starts with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenWings/pseuds/FrozenWings
Summary: Anything can happen out on the road, as Cap well knows. So when Cass suddenly stops writing home, he fears the worst. When Rapunzel and Eugene appear in his office bearing bad news, his has a hunch as to what comes next.A hunch that couldn’t have been more wrong.Because while he knows anything can happen out on the road, he didn't realize that 'anything' included this.
Relationships: Captain of Corona's Guard & Cassandra (Disney)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	You've Got to be Kidding!

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the one and only [PocketProtector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketProtector/pseuds/PocketProtector); any and all credit for this fantastic idea goes to them. :)

Cap sighed, placing his pen down on the desk and reached up to rub at a rock-hard knot in the back of his neck, groaning audibly as needles of pain fled his kneading fingers. His eyes dropped to the shift schedule he had just finished drafting, double-checking, and signing off on, giving it one final review while the ink dried. After a curt nod, the parchment was gingerly moved to the top of the stack of completed paperwork, a stack that was now exactly as tall as the old ‘things-that-needed-his-attention’ one had been. He stared at the orderly pile with not a corner askance, and felt a frown harden his face.

Just perfect.

He was now officially caught up on paperwork, and- he glanced at the clock- sooner than he anticipated. He still had half-an-hour until he was expected in the training yard to oversee some afternoon drills. Perhaps at one point his workaholic self would have derived some satisfaction from the accomplishment and took the time to congratulate himself on his organization and single-minded focus, get a head-start on some other not-all-that-pressing task, perhaps even tried that thing called ‘relaxing.’ But now? Now there was nothing he liked less than the thought of a whole half-an-hour with nothing to do to occupy his hands, busy his mind, and leave no room to think about _that._

_That._

That singular, haunting thought that had been sitting on his shoulder like an ill-advising devil for the past four months, stealing his sleep and sanity like some sort of vicious disease. It was horrible, and probably would have driven him mad four months ago had he not discovered that business kept it at bay, hence his putting together supply orders for the next two months in advance and shift schedules for the next five. But now, without something else to obsessively focus on, the devil started filling his ear anew with all manner of dreadful premonitions, hissing and droning as they swirled about his head like a blinding fog, just as they had in every spare second since _that_ first entered his world.

Cap growled, scowling at the stupidly neat pile as though he could make more distracting work materialize out of the air. No such luck. Drats.

He needed something to do, a sword to sharpen, a breastplate to polish, something to....

His gaze landed on an unassuming drawer, golden keyhole aflame as the mid-afternoon sun streaming through the window struck the metal and set it alight

....read.

If he wanted to silence the devil, this was the last thing he should be doing, but he still fished a key from his pocket and fitted it into the small black opening so a soft _click_ dropped to the floor.

Soon the sound of rustling paper once again filled the office as a stack of neatly folded pieces of parchment was lifted from the drawer and placed reverently on the table as though they were the long-lost pages of an ancient codex. Delicately, he picked up the topmost one, freckled with muddy splatters, and unfolded it so the neat black script was bared for the audience of one.

_Dad - Reached Vardaros. Raps is fine, befriending every blade of grass we pass. Caravan is working out nicely; very sturdy; should last us the trip so long as none of the boys are idiots (unlikely, I know). Fitzherbert hasn’t done anything particularly stupid yet; only a matter of time, though. On pace to reach destination in perhaps six months. Will write again at next town. - Cass_

Cap knew what the letter said, had memorized it within minutes of receiving it nearly a year ago, but read it again anyway. Cass’s clipped, professional voice, as crisp and clear as though she were standing opposite him at the desk, drowned out the clock as it rang in his ears, and he could practically see her eyes gleaming with every deliberately ill-concealed jab at the more asinine members of the party. The first time he’d read it a fond chuckle had tumbled from his lips at the imagined scene that would have no doubt followed the account: Fitzherbert exaggeratedly thanking her for the ‘compliment,’ her challenging if he even knew what ‘asinine’ meant, him saying that yes, he did, and was touched she felt him a perfect donkey because it meant she acknowledged he had something she didn’t, i.e. a personality, her readying to make a very strong case that swords were, in fact, a defining personality trait, the princess intervening before her boyfriend’s ‘chiseled face’ ( _*snort*_ ) became ‘chiseled’ in the wrong way...

The fact that he wasn’t dubbing _himself_ the asinine one for getting sentimental about an imagined argument, he was sure, was a testament to how much the princess’ trip had worn on him. Seriously, at this point he was convinced that he'd be less drained if he’d just traveled with the gaily-painted caravan himself.

The devil chided that he should have, and the treasured note was partway crumpled by fingers with a mind of their own. Realizing of a sudden what he was doing, Cap dropped the letter as though it were white hot, watching it fall to the desk like a dead autumn leaf, and leaned his elbows on the desktop, head in his hands. Tremulous breaths listed across the parchments, brushing the travel-stained and water-wrinkled sheets so they shuffled anxiously on the oak.

Who would have thought such anguish could come from something so unassuming?

For a time, the letters had actually been a source of comfort to Cap. The night before she’d left, when he had sought Cass out for a private good-bye and crushed her to his chest, pain from still-healing ribs and doctor’s orders be hanged, he’d made a simple request of her: to write. Nothing long or fancy, just a quick note handed off to a courier whenever they stopped in civilization to stock up on supplies. Ostensibly it was for ‘security purposes:’ in the event an emergency occurred and he needed to locate the princess quickly, they’d at least know which direction she'd went. In truth, though, it was for him, a way to ease his mind that Cass, bound by more than mere duty to lay down her life for the heir, still breathed, still lived, and would still return home.

Of course, she had agreed, nodding sharply in affirmation, as though she were a guard receiving an assignment, and her letters reflected that mentality. From the sparse, succinct use of words (you’d think couriers charged by the consonant) to how she took care to never mention the princess by title or their ultimate destination lest the note find its way into unsavory hands, the only thing keeping them from perfectly resembling a textbook scout report was the salty Fitzherbert-centric remarks, which, he knew, were still (ironically) of national importance lest the kingdom be deprived of its future prince consort (if that happened how would they live?). And even though they weren’t remotely sentimental and Cass always omitted how she was faring, they still afforded him a measure of comfort, knowing that the signature at the end was proof enough that Cass really was fine.

Until her most recent missive, the one with the watery brown ring stamped like a seal on its surface (apparently the courier was one of the lazier ones, not minding where he placed his ale; prodigal, too, seeing how he likely used the silver Cass would have doled out as payment). The risible outward appearance existed in sobering contrast to the note’s contents or, more accurately, what they implied.

With molasses-slow movements, Cap sifted through the stack, shoving aside unassuming Fortuna and the port city off Tirapai and gemstone-rich Pincosta until it found that last note, hailing from some distant place he knew about only from standing at attention in the audience chamber while the king went on a diatribe about how Trevor had made a point of sending him a not-invitation to, of all things, a seal wedding.

(It was most definitely not appropriate for him to listen with such interest to the royals’ conversations, but between Her Majesty interrupting her husband mid-philippic to say that it didn’t matter because he would have said no, Frederic countering that he had wanted the _pleasure_ of telling his rival that he couldn’t be bothered with something so inane as a _seal wedding,_ then some stuffy duke chiming in that he had an invitation and perhaps Frederic could be his plus- _absolutely not_ , well, he was only human).

The flaps of the letter eased open of their own accord as Cap took it in hand, the top bobbing gently like a beckoning hand urging him forward, wholly oblivious to the reticence etched on every life of his face and coloring his ponderous, readying breath. He had this one memorized as well, words seared into his mind as surely as if the pencil were a branding iron, but that didn’t make reading it any easier.

_Dad - Raps is fine. Caravan lost, so walking. ETA destination unsure. - Cass_

Cap wished he could say that the realization that some misfortune sufficient to deprive the party of their transport was the worst part of the note, but it wasn’t.

From the second he laid eyes on it, a kingdom’s worth of campaniles had struck up an alarmed tolling whose ringing never fully ceased, the work of a bell ringer gone mad. Because everything about the letter was wrong.

It was disconcertingly brief, even for laconic Cass. It was flat, worryingly devoid of the sardonic barbs that typically peppered her accounts. It was disturbingly sloppy, practiced penmanship replaced by printed words that stumbled across the paper plain like a parade of drunkards, almost as though the years had peeled back and her five-year-old self were the scribe.

He may not have been the most skilled person when it came to deciphering emotions or glances or things left unsaid, written or otherwise, but he didn’t have to be a master of intuition to understand the truth Cass had taken care to omit: Something had happened to her, something bad, and as days then weeks then four interminable months had solemnly trudged past without a word from her, the more he began to fear that the caravan’s return would bring with it a voice saying-

“He’s her _dad,_ Eugene. He deserves to know as soon as possible.”

Cap blinked as though coming out of a stupor, the unmistakable voice of the princess, the princess who was supposed to be countries away with his daughter, bringing his hollow gaze and spiraling thoughts back to the office. Brown eyes sought out the door and latched onto it with all the intensity of a conflagration determined to burn away the ancient wood and afford him a glimpse of the hall beyond to prove his ears wrong, because the speaker couldn’t _possibly_ be her, just like how the Eugene she was speaking to couldn’t _possibly_ be the one that was followed by ‘Fitzherbert.’ Either his worry over Cass had finally driven him to distraction, or-

“I know, but are you sure we can’t give it a day or two? Maybe even a week? It’s not like she’s going anywhere.”

Oh no.

No no no _no_!

His mind issued forth a command to stand, blaze over to that door, and thunder for the princess and Fitzherbert to spill what the Hell happened to his daughter, but propriety was as effective as a ball and chain to keep him fastened to the spot.

That, and the debilitating tremors coursing down his legs.

“Eugene...”

“Or at least long enough to swing by that tavern at the harbor for a keg of the honest-to-sun strongest ale in the Seven Kingdoms? You know, to soften the blow and keep things from getting too....shout-y?”

Oh, he could assure Fitzherbert that there wasn’t an ale in the Seven Kingdoms strong enough to keep his voice at anything less than a stentorian roar that’d have half the castle’s ears ringing for a month.

“Eugene, he’s going to hear about this the second he leaves that room, and it’s best he hear it from me, since...*sigh* it’s kind of my fault...“

“Blondie, we’ve been over this: it isn’t your-“

“And I need you there with me. So?”

Damn propriety.

A frenzied clatter fled from the chair that fell to the floor as Cap stood, Cass’s final note dropping lifelessly to the desk. The door was only spared from being ripped from its hinges and the desk from joining the chair by the former hesitantly creaking open, as though it wished it were anywhere else, and admitting the princess and her beau; her the very picture of contrition, him looking like he agreed with the door, and both having the air of doomed adventurers stepping into a dragon’s lair, fully cognizant of their chances of stepping back out in one piece.

The ticking of the clock was swallowed by the portentous silence that followed on the couple's heels as they padded timidly into the room, faces filled with regret (if not a little fear) and shoulders weighted down in a way that would have drawn sympathy from Atlas. Cap‘s mouth went dry as he watched them enter, neither meeting his gaze, and even though his mind was shouting and screaming and issuing forth a command to grab Fitzherbert by his perfectly creased collar and find vent for the feral, grief-fueled turmoil crashing through his chest via a few good, hard shakes (he wasn’t prince consort *yet*), his throat and tongue and hands refused to cooperate. Instead he stood dumbly behind the desk, eyes spewing fire that did nothing to conceal the terror that fed the flames, at once wishing the princess would quit worrying her lip and turn his daughter’s death from suspicion into horrible reality and praying the fraught silence would last forever, as though if she didn’t speak the grim news into existence it wouldn’t be true.

“So, Cap...long time no see...”

Leave it to Fitzherbert to take a sledgehammer to the silence.

“Where’s Cassandra?” Cap forced out, words more growled than spoken, anger being easier to show and feel than grief, and looked away from where the princess was wrapping an impossibly long strand of blonde around a nervous finger to visually set fire to the man at her side. 

Fitzherbert swallowed hard enough that Cap could, even from across the room, see his Adam’s apple jump as though singed by his question, and he plastered on the most synthetic of smiles. “C-Cassandra? You- er, which Cassandra would you be asking aft-” 

“My daughter.” _Who else? Man’s an idiot._

Eugene swallowed somehow harder than before as he eyed the sword on Cap’s hip, nervous sweat carving a cold, shudder-inducing trail down his back. Or maybe it was from Cap’s dead-eyed stare; him and Max must’ve read that same ‘How to Interrogate’ chapter in the compendium (for a brief second he actually empathized with the fake The Giovanni). “Ohhh,” Eugene said at last, drawing out the word for too many seconds, tone holding an aggravating lightness that only made the fire in Cap's eyes burn harder, “ _that_ Cassandra! Well, she’s...not dead?”

For half of a sole, glorious second, the fire was doused, and Cap’s knees started to buckle so he could slump to the floor in relief. But no sooner had those words reached his ears than the fire flared anew and the knees locked like a safety on a crossbow; one could be ‘not dead’ but still be close to it, and every moment he stood here with the twosome opposite redefining what it meant to beat around the bush was a moment he wasn’t with his little girl who, for all he knew, was drawing her final breath.

Something of his emotional distress must have clawed through the angry façade because Rapunzel stepped forward, wisely putting herself between the seething captain and her boyfriend. “Captain,” she said, taking a steeling breath hands clasped in front of her. “We are so, so sorry, but something happened on the road and Cass is...” she paused, staring at her bare toes curling against the stone as she chose her next words with a most delicate hand, and Cap bowed his head, bracing himself for the horrific news no doubt pacing on her tongue.

“...not quite herself.”

Well, he had to hand it to her; all his years on the guard and being both the bearer and receiver of bad news, he’d never before heard that euphemism for ‘grievously injured.’

Cap sighed, anger fleeing with his breath and leaving nothing but a numbness that sat in his stomach like a stone; expecting bad news didn’t make hearing it any easier. “Just...,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “how bad is it?” 

The puzzle pieces finally slotted into place for Eugene, who rushed to join Rapunzel, shaking his head frantically and talking with his hands almost as much as his tongue. “Hold on, Cap, you’ve got it all wrong! It’s nothing like that. Cass is fine! Really! Healthy as a horse and ready to outlive us all thanks to being scarier than death! She’s just...well...” 

Just then, a shrill, girlish scream leapt from the hall through the cracked door, followed by a **BANG** as said door was flung open and an armor-clad, knee-high whirlwind with black bobbed hair raced through, maroon cape streaming like a heraldic banner behind her. She easily leapt atop the desk and rolled across the mahogany surface, sending the piles of completed paperwork and letters re-re-re-re-read flying every which way, before landing at Cap’s feet, standing ramrod straight and capping off the bravura display with a crisp salute. 

“Knight Cassandra reporting for duty, sir!” The whirlwind piped, looking up at him and trying to appear serious despite the playful light that frisked in the sparking hazel irises. Cap stared, mouth hanging open, eyes practically springing from their sockets.

It was Cassandra. 

She wasn’t dying. 

She was _five!!!!!_

How- What- Why- _How?!?_

“Lance!!!” Eugene shouted through the open door, voice hot with irritation. “I told you to keep her out _in the hall_ until we gave the signal! Why is she in here and not _in the hall?!?_ ”

“She kicked me!” Lance squeaked back from where he was hopping about in the corridor, clutching his shin. “She said she was going to go in whether I said she could or not and she kicked me! _Hard!_ It’s like her little toes are made of steel!” 

“For crying out loud, of course they feel like that! She’s wearing- wait, what am I saying, she’s _five!_ How hard can she possibly kick?” 

“Oh-ho!” Lance countered, placing his leg on the ground (miraculously healed all of a sudden) and standing akimbo. “Look who’s talking, Mr. I-won’t-babysit-the-brat-because-she-punched-me! Can you get more hypocritical?”

“That’s _punching!_ ” Eugene argued, hands balling into fists as a sort of inadvertent visual aid. “Punching and kicking are two entirely different things! And we have a bigger problem now!” He gestured to the dumbstruck captain, cutting off Lance’s forthcoming rejoinder. “We broke the Captain!”

Lance glanced at the previously redoubtable captain looking like a shell-shocked version of his former self. “Yeesh. I...uh...I have to go be...somewhere that’s not here. Good luck with...um...that.” With that he turned and dashed off down the hall at a speed that very nearly left his shadow in the dust, muttering, “They’ll need it.”

Eugene gave a long-suffering groan (the last he-lost-count-of-how-many months were, without a doubt, the longest _of his life_ ) and turned back to the Captain, still staring like a dead fish at Cassandra, salute dropped but posture still impeccable as she looked up at the gaping man with unconcealed confusion. “Blondie...” Eugene said in a stage whisper to Rapunzel, who was just as frozen as the captain, hands clasped over her mouth and eyes starting to water from forgetting how to blink for the past minute. “Do you think one of us should say something?“

Rapunzel dropped her hands to rest under her chin and licked her lips, nodding. She cleared her throat and took a hesitant step closer to the desk. “Cap...“

“Why’s his face like that?” Cass furrowed her brows as she stared up at her father with incomprehension, trying to make sense of the very strange expression he was wearing. Not receiving so much as a blink in answer and getting nowhere that way, she turned to fix Rapunzel with a perturbed look, pointing up at Cap. “Is his face always like this? Cause I would have remembered that since its weird.”

Eugene coughed oddly behind his hand in spite of the discomfiting situation, momentarily glad Cap’s mind had apparently decided to go out to lunch, and Rapunzel bit the inside of her cheek to stave off the laugh she did not want to acknowledge (this whole mess _wasn’t_ funny, no matter how many...interesting comments Cass made). “No, Cass, he’s just...surprised. He...wasn’t expecting us.” 

“What,” she said, in a sassy tone, one hand on a hip as she shifted her suddenly wry gaze to Eugene. “Did he forget to send your letter letting people know we were coming?” 

“I did not forget!” Eugene spat back (hopefully five-year-olds couldn't’ detect white lies). “It...the courier must have lost it.” 

“Uh-huh,” Cass nodded with a too-knowing smirk (then again, she was anything but a normal five-year-old). "Sure.”

“Captain?” Rapunzel interjected before Eugene could locate a riposte and start trying to have the last word in an incoming tiff (that hadn’t worked once on the long trip back, and she was not in the mood right now), stepping towards the man who didn’t so much as twitch an eyelid at her approach. “Are you alright? Maybe you’d like to sit down and have someone fetch a glass of-“ 

“What’s this?” 

If they hadn’t seen his lips move and been almost alone in the room, Rapunzel and Eugene wouldn’t have believed it was the captain who spoke, the words sounding a world away from his usual gruff, assured commands. 

“Well...” Eugene started in a tone that one may use when patiently explaining life’s more awkward facets to a wide-eyed youth. “It’s-“

“It’s me!” Cass interrupted, jumping in place a little, armor making faint clanking sounds as she waved a hand to catch her father’s attention. “Cassandra! You remember!”

Cap didn’t take his eyes off the girl, yet he continued to address the two adults in the room (of which Cass wasn’t for some reason?). “Why is she like this?” 

“ ‘Cause I’m a knight.” Cass, completely misinterpreting what was meant by 'this,' clasped her hands behind her back and drew herself up to her new (or maybe old?) short height, chin in the air and radiating an air of unquestioned importance like a very tiny general. “I’m gonna fight the bad guys and keep the princess safe.” Cap thought he heard Eugene’s breath huff in a scoffing fashion, wordlessly saying that, in truth, the opposite had been a regular occurrence. Oblivious, Cass twisted around to grab a corner of her cape and sweep it to her front in a showy fashion. “This is my armor, and my cape. Rapunzel lets me wear them every day.” (this time Cap definitely heard Eugene‘s muttered remark about "the hoyden refusing to wear anything else") “I have a sword, too, it’s right- hey!” Cass frowned in annoyance as she started contorting herself this way and that, trying to find the sword she *swore* was lashed to her waist when they left the caravan. “Where’d it go?” She fixed Eugene with an intimidating look that was one-hundred percent ineffective. “Did you take it?”

“I most certainly did not!” Eugene retorted, surreptitiously tucking a hand behind his back and crossing his fingers (Lance was right: that thing _hurt_ , and he was damn sick of not only being challenged to ‘duels’ but losing them since even as a kid, Cass could still hand him his rear in a swordfight. It was embarrassing). “You probably just dropped it somewhere.” 

Cass stamped her foot. “No I didn’t! You’re prob’ly hiding it! I’ll prove it!” 

“Okay, Cass, that’s enough.” Rapunzel grabbed Cass’s hand before she could start frisking Eugene. She glanced around the room, searching, paying no mind to the way Cass was trying to wrest her gauntleted had out of her grip, until she noticed a wooden rack pushed up against a far corner of the room. “Here.” She gestured to the rack, Cass’s sulky gaze following the princess's pointing finger (she just knew he took it!). “There’s a bunch of wooden practice swords in there; why don’t you go pick out a new one?”

“Okay,” Cass chirped, clanging off towards the corner, the old toy forgotten; real practice swords from the real guard, after all, were practically the real thing.

Rapunzel sighed as she watched her go, every inch a harried mother, and turned her gaze back to Cap, staring blankly after Cassandra as she carefully picked her way through the rack, hefting each wooden weapon, running her finger along their edges, swinging a few promising candidates as she tried to find one that was just right. He hadn’t taken his eyes from her since her abrupt, energetic entrance, as though she were the magnet that held the metal fast, morbidly transfixed and completely unaware of the anxious, lip-biting looks Rapunzel and Eugene were trading behind his back, holding a silent colloquy. 

Finally, Rapunzel took a steeling breath and moved to stand alongside Cap, lighting a hand on his arm with as much delicacy as though he were an injured Slayer Wolf who wouldn’t think twice before ridding her of that hand (though, if she was being honest, she was inclined to think the wolf was the less dangerous of the two). “So, Cap, you’re probably wondering why Cass is...five.”

An endless beat, a mechanical nod, and Rapunzel continued in a calm, soothing voice, carefully rubbing the arm and anxiously noting the rock-hard muscles pulled taut as a bowstring, waiting to unleash piercing rage. “There’s actually a logical explanation. You see, there was an...incident while we were traveling and Cass was magically turned into a kid. Then, when we went to turn her back...”

***********************************

“Okay, everyone,” Rapunzel announced, turning the dial on the brilliantly-colored top to the small, detailed image of a chicken and setting it on its tip. “Ready?” 

Cass and Lance nodded eagerly, eyes bright and excited, as Shorty contributed a string of moist-sounding coos that were accompanied by a runnel of bubble-laced spit (for present purposes, she decided to take that as a ‘yes’). 

“Perfect!” Rapunzel beamed, a hint of anxiety creeping through the emerald eyes (only a couple minutes left...). She laid her hand atop the ruby-red button, preparing to unleash more than just diverting spins. “Just stay right where you are. One, two-“ 

“My sword!” Cass shouted, suddenly spotting one of the, as Eugene called them, Hell-hound puppies gnawing on the handle of the toy sword she’d been toting around as though it were a bone, paws wrapped securely around the lurid orange ‘blade’ as soft splintering sounds fell from pup’s jaws along with wood shavings.

_"NO!!!"_

The shouted command came a second too late as Cass sprung towards the pup in the very same heartbeat that Rapunzel’s hand, obeying a command that flashed down her arm at a speed that made recall impossible, pressed down on the button. A flash of light engulfed the dungeon-esque kennel, brief and blinding as lightning with a whizzing thunder all its own, and when it vanished, there were only two more adults in the room instead of three.

***********************************

“I found the one I want!”

“Cass, dearie, no.” 

Rapunzel promptly abandoned Cap and her account of the chain of events leading up to their current...very interesting situation in favor of issuing a hasty, somewhat panicked admonishment. She darted to the rack in the corner, where Cass was using every muscle in her body to drag a sword taller than she was across the floor, steel winging with shudder-inducing scrapes as it suffered the indignity of being wielded by a rug rat.

“That’s too big for you,” Rapunzel scolded, prying Cass’s fingers off the rather deadly-looking blade and setting it on a pair of wall-mounted pegs that, she decided, would be its new home for the time being solely because Cass couldn’t reach that high. 

“No it’s not!” Cass protested, the picture of indignance (ugh, why did _everyone_ keep saying that? She just _knew_ she could do it!).

“Yes, it is,” Rapunzel countered, rifling through the forest of blades for lurking wolves in the form of rapiers or falchions or broadswords or sabers or other things Cass was now definitely too young for, the pegs soon straining under the weight of another half-dozen age inappropriate weapons. “Besides, I said you could have a *wooden* one.” 

“Awww....” Cass blinked up at Rapunzel with beseeching, heart-melting eyes. “Please?” 

“Or you could just not have any.” Rapunzel crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at Cass with a flat, no-nonsense expression. Cass gave a tiny horrified gasp and promptly whipped back towards the rack, making a show of sifting through the *wooden* swords lest Rapunzel think she didn’t want any (and she really did; what kind of knight didn’t have a sword? A stupid one, that's what kind, and she wasn’t a stupid knight).

“Sorry about that,” Rapunzel apologized as she returned to the still-motionless Cap, sheepishly reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde behind an ear, never mind that it was already there. “She can be....” 

“A hellion.”

“Very full of life,” Rapunzel finished, giving Eugene the same look she’d just treated Cassandra to. Her expression quickly turned contrite as she reached around for her braid, fiddling with some of the beads strung along the tie holding it in place. “But you probably already knew that.” 

Another beat, another nod, then in that same decidedly un-Captain-like voice from earlier. “Can...can you turn her back?” 

“Yeah...” Eugene sighed, coming up to stand on Cap’s other side, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, nervous gaze alternating between his poor poor girlfriend and the Captain whose temper, he well knew, was only slightly less flammable than Flynnoleum (who was he kidding? The captain’s rage could blow a mountain to smithereens). “About that...”

**********************************

“We can still turn her back!”

Rapunzel’s voice held an aggressively optimistic edge as she stood and turned towards Eugene, eyes almost frantic. “Right? We- we still have time?” 

“Only for about forty-five more seconds,” Eugene replied, rapidly checking his watch.

“That’s all we need, then.” Rapunzel nodded decisively, already halfway to where, just beyond the touch of the top’s magical light, still-five-years-old Cass was locked in a furious battle of tug-of-war with the puppy over the contested sword, a skirmish riddled with growls, snarls, and grunted commands to “Leggo!” because “It’s mine!” and “You have your own bones!” (Rapunzel would have thought it adorable if they weren’t some-number-less-than-forty-five seconds away from this becoming their new permanent reality). “You get the top ready, I’ll grab Cass, then-“

“AUGH!” 

Apparently, the puppy’s snarls and growls weren’t just sounds of effort but a call for reinforcements as its gray-furred sister snuck up behind Cass and grabbed her cape in its teeth, tugging it so a ripping sound grumbled forth from the fabric. 

“You cut that out!” Cass made a snarl of her own as she freed one hand from the sword to bat at her new attacker, not minding the needling teeth that snapped at her fingers (armor had many benefits). That was exactly what the first puppy was waiting for, though, and he took the opportunity afforded by Cass’s loosened grip to pull the sword out of the hand that remained and gallop towards the back of the room with the spoils of war. 

Of course, Cass noticed. 

Also of course, she refused to accept defeat. 

“Hey!” she shouted, finally having dislodged the puppy trying to make a chew toy out of her cape. “Get back here with my sword!” 

“Cass!” Rapunzel’s arm reaching out to grab the armored hand found only air as Cass deftly dodged her grasp and followed on the heels of the puppy, determined as heck to not let it get the best of her or, worse, her sword. Rapunzel ran after them both, calling over her shoulder, “Eugene, the top!” 

“Got it right here, Sunshine!” he said, scooping up the toy from where it lay on its side on the flagstones. 

“Here,” Lance volunteered, holding out a hand. “I’m faster.” 

Deciding now was not the time to argue about that (there’d be plenty of time for a footrace later), he handed the top to Lance, who wasted no time in closing the distance between himself and Rapunzel. “Don’t you worry, princess, I’ve got-“ 

Cape-puppy suddenly decided that she didn’t want to be left out of the fun and abandoned the scrap of burlap she had decided was her consolation prize to tear after the people, barking and yipping at Lance’s feet as she wove in and out between his legs. 

“Whoa! Hold up! Puppy alert!”

“Here buddy, I’ve got her!” Eugene joined the fray, diving for the pup as Lance stumbled about precariously, alternately trying to bribe the creature with an imaginary treat (maybe puppies weren’t as smart as dogs?) and simply grab it by any means possible, scruff, ear, tail-

“YELP!”

Okay, tail may have been a mistake.

The high-pitched, almost human shriek startled another, somehow higher one from Lance, who finally lost his balance and plummeted to the floor, arms windmilling and causing him to lose his hold on the top, launching it into the air like a loud-colored shotput, rising, arcing, falling, right towards-

“I’vE gOt iT!” Shorty slurred, swaying on his feet, expression far too placid as the top sailed towards his upraised arms, not wavering, not flinching, not reacting in the slightest as the the toy fell and landed with a **CRASH** at his feet. 

There was a brief moment of horrified silence, then: 

_“SHORTY!”_

Rapunzel, Eugene, and Lance shouted as one as springs waggled dazedly where they spilled from the ruined top and a few frazzled cogs rolled away from the wreckage. “I bElieVe,” he said with the air of a renowned lecturer, bowing with a flourish of a self-important hand, “tHe woRd yOu’Re lOokiNg foR iS ‘GesUndHeit.’ ”

“No, Shorty,” Eugene groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “That’s not the word I’m looking for. Of course, it may as well be, since the word I’m looking for I can’t say because there’s a _five-year-old-present!_ ”

“You can say it!” Cass piped cheerily from where she was still fighting with the first puppy over her sword, the animal’s front paws dangling above the ground as she tried to lift the toy out of its mouth and was having absolutely zero success. “I don’t mind!”

Completely deaf to Cass’s very generous offer, Rapunzel, eyes wide with horror and set in a winter-pale face, walked stiffly to the remains of the top. She poked at one of the springs with a wooden finger, saying, in a voice that was almost as broken as the toy, “I don’t suppose we can fix it in the next ten seconds?” 

The spring decided the cogs had the right idea and leapt away from the finger, sproing-ing across the floor and drawing the attention of Cass’s adversary, who dropped the sword (causing Cass to fall back on her armored rear with a clang and an “oof!”) and pounced towards this new diversion, his sister joining him with a scrap of tarpaulin dangling from her lip. 

“Sorry, Blondie,” Eugene said, once again consulting the watch, voice low, “Even if we could, we would have needed to finish almost a minute ago.” 

“So...” Lance ventured, pushing himself to his feet before those puppies could bound across his back _again,_ “That means Cass is...”

All (barring Shorty, engaged in deep silent conversation with a water dish that resembled some uncle or other) turned slowly to stare at the dark-haired figure assiduously wiping puppy drool off the handle of her sword with a piece of canvas, unaware of the compunctious, despairing looks raining down upon her. No one spoke, voices as silent as the empty-eyed skulls watching vacantly from the cobwebbed corners, all consumed by the exact same terrible thought. 

It wasn’t until several more minutes ticked by and Cass, after deciding her sword was satisfactorily rid of slimy stuff had joined the pups in a game of chase (taking care to hold her sword out of their reach), that someone (Lance) recovered their tongue.

“Uh...what now?”

******************************

“So,” Eugene said with an air of resigned finality, “we all agreed that we couldn’t very well drag a toddler along on an epic cross-country kingdom-saving journey and that it was best for everyone involved if we just brought her...back...here.” His words deflated as he neared the end of the tale, bravado and confidence draining away until he was almost cowering before the captain, wincing at the thought of the sort of squall that would descend on the office as soon as he stopped looking like _that_.

“We are so, so sorry.” Rapunzel wrung her braid between her hands as she spoke, twisting into a sort of reflection of her mental state. “We are going to do everything we can to try and change her back, starting with fixing the top. I already sent out summons to every toy maker and clock smith in Corona to see if any of them have any idea how to fix it. She’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

“And until then,” Eugene added pasting on a hollow, nervous smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “You get to savor quality father-daughter time! I mean, if you think about it, you’re the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms! Every parent says their kids grow up too fast and that they wish they could go back to those simpler times, and now you can!”

“Eugene!” Rapunzel hissed, green gaze scanning the Captain’s catatonic face for any sign that her beau once again pushed his buttons in the wrong way.

For his part, Cap only dimly heard the couple’s assuage attempts, continuing to stare at Cass as though transfixed, turning over the tale again and again and viewing it from more angles than he would have ever thought possible in his attempt to make sense of it.

His first thought, once he decided that he had run out of angles, was that Her Highness had to have hit her head; if that was her idea of logical, he’d hate to see what ‘fantastic’ looked like.

His second was what the Hell was he supposed to do now? Storm out of the room to his waiting recruits and pretend this never happened and everything was _fine_? Throw his dignity out the window and break down like a weak-willed fool? Rail at Fitzherbert and hope that would shake some sense back into the world? (He was leaning towards that last one).

Before he could decide (and luckily for Eugene), a high, chirping voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Found one!” Cass bounded back over from the corner, wooden sword that was only slightly too big for her in hand, and once again stood at attention, swordtip planted on the floor (inadvertently piercing one of the errant pieces of paper), with her chest puffed out and face serious. “ _Now_ I’m a real knight.” The seriousness melted away as she cocked an excited grin up at her dad, eyes dancing with eagerness, pride, and youthful admiration, exactly like they had so many times so, so long ago. “See? I’m ready to keep the kingdom safe from bad guys, just like you.”

Cap had no response, eyes drawn not to the Junior Protector of Corona, but to the tip of her sword or, more accurately, the travel-worn, ale-stained sparsely-written letter it rested on.

And the second thought was answered.

In a motion as fluid as though the last time he’d done it had only been yesterday, Cap swept Cassandra up off the floor, her pealing giggles filling the air as he flipped her upside-down, swung her to and fro (much to Cass’s delight), then set her on his shoulder, grinning brighter and broader than a boundless summer sky as he met her gaze, not so much as twitching an eyebrow as her non-sword hand latched onto his hair for balance. 

“Well, then,” he said, voice bursting with that most incredible feeling of joy wrought from finding something treasured that was thought lost forever, “seeing how you’re a _real_ knight-“ he laughed louder than either Rapunzel or Eugene thought possible (Eugene frowning inwardly as he realized he now owed Lance a silver) when Cass grinned and giggled and bounced in place so she would have toppled down if not for her father’s steadying hand (make that two silvers) “- how about you come help me with the recruits? Tell them everything they’re doing wrong, eh? Show them what a _real_ knight looks like?”

“Yeah!” Cass shouted as her father gave her another little bounce, waving her sword for emphasis. “ ‘Cause we’re the best!” 

“That we are, hun!” 

With that, he turned, offered a quick parting bow at the princess and a surprisingly appreciative one at Eugene, and strode out the door and into the hall, him and Cass’s uncharacteristically gleeful conversation drifting back to tickle the ancient stones into baring musty grins and convincing the sun to shine a little brighter as it lit their way.

Because, for perhaps the first time since Cap had known him, Eugene was right about something other than thieving: he was the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. He had his little girl back, and no matter her age, that was all he wanted.

Back in the office, Rapunzel and Eugene stared after where the Captain and Cassandra had disappeared, the dumbfounded expression that had been frozen on Cap's face during nearly their entire exchange having found a pair of new homes. It wasn’t until the sounds of the actually merry twosome had vanished and faded into a silence that felt at once contented and uncertain that either spoke. 

“He took that...well.”

“Yup, Sunshine, that he did.” 

“Should we be worried?”

“Frankly, I’d be more concerned for those poor recruits about to be dressed down by a five-year-old.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aww, Cap loves his little girl so much! (and yes, Eugene, those recruits aren’t going to forget this session any time soon).
> 
> In case it wasn't clear, Cass's final letter was written when the injury to her hand was still relatively fresh and she hadn't yet gotten the hang of doing things with her left hand. And a quick note about the timeline: by the time Cap received that note Rapunzel and co. had already completed their stay in the House of Yesterday's Tomorrows and were on their way back (because, ya know, snail mail). The return trip took far less time since, this time, Rapunzel made sure they avoided detours and tropical islands with months-long layovers; still, it somehow *felt* longer...
> 
> There you go! I had a _lot_ of fun writing this (may have to do another someday with all the stuff I thought of and didn't use) and hope you all enjoyed it as well, Pocket especially (seriously, was this okay? Close enough to what you had in mind? My brain kinda ran away with it).
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading!


End file.
